moving, messages, and giving them away

i'm a wreck everyone. a straight up hot mess.
no cigarettes or home.
stephanie the nomad is down to the basics.
pulling clothes from the backseat of the car or yelling as i fall down stairs while juggling lamps and cutlery.

great.

i've always enjoyed these trying times. they happen once in a while and always leave me lined and furrowed.

breathe in.

out.

now shut up and get through this.

[sigh]

boiling

this must be what water feels like when all the bubbles are molesting it. my mind wont shut the hell up and sit down. not even when i ask nicely.

ouch.

work slayed me today. the only things that saved me were 344 and 313. 344 because he has a huge puppy that loves me and jumps me when he sees me. 313 because hes the man with the nicotine and a giving heart.
i worked in a type of haze today. zoning and spacing. working numbers in my head. seeing leases and pens, deposits and move in specials.
im just so tired.
i dont want to do anything.
'cept maybe sleep.

my blog is going no where.

i was going to bitch and rant about something.
but it would prove fruitless.
i could never get a word in edgewise anyway.
why bother.

[maybe later]

urg./